The Tube
by hmm.com
Summary: A Hunger Games AU. Eventual Everlark. Feel free to leave comments on how to make this story better :) Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or quotes used within this story. That is all the work of Suzanne Collins.
1. Leaving Home

We first moved to the outskirts of London when I was 10. I remember it as clear as day; we met Uncle Haymitch at London City airport, we call him 'Uncle' when really he's only a family friend...I'll come back to that.

Prim, my little sister was only 6 back then. She thought we we're going to live with the Queen and be best friends with the Princesses. It made Haymitch chuckle at least. She had the right to think every thing was like a fairytale at 6, even though it was so far from that.

 _Still is I guess._

I'd only be on a plane once before, back when I was 3 or something, to go to Disneyland Florida. I remember it only being a 2 hour flight from our local airport, Beckley, to Orlando. Being as I was only thinking about meeting Mickey and Minnie, I guess I didn't mind it that much. Anyway who can remember being 3 clearly? That holiday was the only one we went on as family; me, Mum and Dad. Prim wasn't even born. After that, we could never save up enough money to even rent out a caravan at the local 'West Virginia Campers'. My Dad had become pretty much desolate, as he got kicked out his business job and was forced to work down the local coal mine, under strict rules that my Mum didn't need to work as she had me, and soon-to-be Prim to look after. He even if his salary had been almost halved.

We lived in Bluefield, WV, a renowned coal mining town. Had been for years. My Father always told us that once he lost his first job, he never wanted to ended up working down the mines, like his Father- my Grandfather. But he had no choice, it was either job and money or no job and no money, meaning no food on the table. I think you can guess which he chose.

Anyway back to London. We ended up here because-

Because, we were now orphans.

 _It still hurts even to say that._

My Father had died in a tragic mining accident, like my Grandfather.

 _That's why he didn't want to end up in them._

But he did.

He had no choice.

My Mother then went into complete shutdown, _he loved him too much,_ she couldn't, well _refused_ look after us anymore and we had no relatives around who were willing to take us in. That's when it got even worse.

She overdosed on some over-the-counter drugs one night.

And died.

That's when social services came to put us into care.

I thought this was going to be our life from then on.

Stuck in there.

Maybe, shunted across America with different foster parents.

Maybe, being adopted-

All of this happening because of a few weeks that turned our life around-

 _For the worse._

But that's when we got that call.

From Haymitch. _Uncle Haymitch._

He got informed our parents deaths via the services, who were trying to their hardest to find _anyone_ who might take us in. I remember telling them about him, saying that my Mum used to be friends with his wife Maysilee, before they moved out to England. I thought of him _ever_ wanting to bring us in (after his Maysilee's death from cancer) would be a miracle. He didn't really know us that well and was never the one for being around kids.

Let alone looking after them.

However that call happened.

 _He wanted to let us stay with him over in London._

I couldn't believe at first.

 _He actually wanted us._

Prim told she could see something now.

She said she could see _hope._

After that, we stayed in the care home for about a month as one of the social workers; Effie Trinket, an all round bubbly and optimistic woman, went over to see what kind of state Haymitch was living in and whether it was worth the hassle of sending us over there. He obviously made an impression though. She came back as excited as ever, waving the signed paperwork in her delicate hands, manicured with hot pink nail varnish.

 _As always._

"Girlies. I'm so proud of you. You're going to love it over there. Yes, it will take a while to adjust to the British way of life, but you'll be fine. Trust me," she said, as she kissed both of our foreheads, her eyes a little glossy with tears.

Then, she handed us over to our new guardian, Uncle Haymitch. Prim hugged her hard. _I don't do hugs._ I just waved back at her vigorous ones. She had come with us on the plane journey, which was actually made it little less daunting. As like I said I've only been on a plane once before, and Prim never had.

We both decided we _hated_ flying.

The turbulence for a good 3 hours, hit us hard.

 _Guess, we aren't going to be coming back to America anytime soon._

We were both glad of coming off that 'metal death-bird' (as Prim called it), even if that meant we were staying with a guy we knew nothing about- _it was better than nothing._

I just grasped onto the small strings of hope Prim told me she could see.

And Effie's kind words.

 _We were going to be alright._

To be honest with you though, I lost _all hope_ when I saw him for the first time. Head hunched low from across the gate, his back pressed against the 'Arrivals' sign, where Effie was walking us to. As soon as he could hear Effie shouting from across the terminal "Haymitch!", his head lifted slightly just making eye contact with us. _He didn't even smile._

"He looks scary," Prim whispered to me, as we came closer.

I didn't reply to that. I just smiled at her sweetly then I kissed her hair.

I didn't want to make myself vulnerable by agreeing with her, I was the only _real_ family she had left and was trying my all to stay strong for her ( _still am_ ), but I couldn't deny it. He looked as if his was in his mid 40's, with long, greasy, dark hair, olive skin and deep grey eyes. Surprisingly having the similar features as me. _Apart from the greasy hair, 40 year-old man part._ Although many families who originated from the coal-mining industry side of Bluefield always did have the iconic, dark 'seam' (as my Mother called them) features. Like my Father's side of the family. My Mother's side (my Mother included) had pretty much the complete opposite in features; fair skin and hair with blue eyes, they originated from the merchants side of the town; bakers, butchers etc… Prim had inherited those features; many people could hardly believe that we were _related_ let alone _sisters_.

"Hello sweethearts," he says, gruffly, finally looking up to reach our eyes.


	2. Growing Up In London

**AN: Hi, thanks for reading the last chapter, sorry it was short but this one is much**

 **longer :)**

Haymitch's apartment...I mean _flat_ is sandwiched in between, a place called Stratford and a place called West Ham on the outskirts of the main city. It's just so _different_ from America. Firstly the houses are extremely small compared to home, with little to no front or back yard, or _garden._

Haymitch said this because it was the, "Capital sweetheart," and that "You're lucky, to even get a house, let alone an acre of land".

This was because we live on floor 12 of a block of flats, so we only have a patch of residential ground to run around on. Nothing to call our own. That, I remember, I was the first thing about London I _hated_. Back home, we had a large back yard, so I always spent my time out in the fresh air. My father also used to take me out into the woods to teach me his hobby of archery, which he learn't from my Grandfather, who actually used to illegally hunt to get food for the family. My Dad never did hunt as there was such a high risk of prosecution, (the woods were in the process of becoming a protected park at the time) so, didn't want to add him being in jail on top of our struggles. But it was fun while it lasted, the one thing I miss the most now being in London.

Our first day with Haymitch (after we'd left the airport and got a cab to his flat) wasn't all that bad in the end. He was a _different_ kind of character, but at least I could see that he actually cared for us and wanted us to have a better life than social care.

 _He's never told us why though, even after 10 years._

After several conversations about Prim's likes and dislikes, whilst shunting boxes of our stuff up the lift, to go into our new room, Prim decided that she loved him and that he wasn't scary at all. He surprisingly treated her really well, lifting her into his shoulders while giving her a little tour of his flat. _Almost like he had his own child._ I guess that made me like him a little. But our relationship has always been an _interesting_ one. Prim I guess, has always been the extrovert, kind and bubbly and an all round great friend maker. Me however, well let's say I keep myself to myself and struggle letting people get to know me. _I've hardly had any friends._ I pick and choose who I let myself love, as I know it can be taken away so easily. Haymitch in particular, was one I spent a long time warming too.

After a few weeks, me and Prim finally had to start school again. This was terrifying. Especially for Prim as she'd only just settled into Kindergarten for the first time back in America. Now she had to settle in with new teachers, new friends (which she wouldn't find that hard to be honest) and most importantly a completely different education system. That mucked me up. Suddenly I wasn't in 5th grade, I was in _Year 5_. On paper, it sounded simple, _5th_ Grade equals Year _5,_ but I don't know, for 10 year-old me, everything new in England was confusing. Elementary School became Primary School. Semesters became Terms...

My first day was more intimidating than anything, though. All the kids knew I was different 'cos I still had a thick an American accent back then, so they were constantly asking me questions. Are you American? Where in America did you used to live? Have you been to New York? Disneyland? Me, being my little introverted self, kept silent and nodded until they left me alone. I think the Teacher, Miss Hartley, thought I was making friends as she never came over to our desk. She just sat listening to others reading.

One person even asked me, why I wasn't in America anymore. I'm terrible liar, no doubt about it, so this cracked me. "Just go away!" I shouted, flying off my chair and towards the classroom door. The slight sound sound of many aspirated gasps echoing around me.

"Katniss!", Miss called.

 _Great way to start school Katniss; make a scene of yourself and get told off._

"Katniss," she called again. This time calmer and quieter. "Come here please." By this time I had reached the doorframe and was edging into the corridor.

"Sorry Miss," I mumbled, looking down to my feet and turning my direction.

"Joseph can you go please? We'll finish our reading tomorrow," she called ushering the little blonde boy out of the seat in front of her. I planted myself on it, shortly after.

"What's happened?" she asked, lifting my chin up so I could look into her eyes.

"I got annoyed, so, so I- I'm sorry," I replied on the verge of tears.

"It's okay," Now this confused me; if I was back in my old school I would already be lined up outside the Principal's Office, even if it was my first day. But here, the teacher was comforting me.

"Someone asked me why I'm came to England. And I, I got annoyed 'cos it's really personal and I didn't want him finding out why. So, yeah."

"That's okay, Katniss. Just say that you don't want to talk about it next time and I'm sure they'll leave you alone. If they don't just tell me, yeah."

"Yeah,"

"Now, go sit back down and continue with your group activity, so I can continue with my reading sessions."

And that was that. Miss told the class to lay off the questions towards me. So I heard no more of it. I soon found out that the boy's name was Gale, after he'd soon apologised to me when I sat back down at our table. He was tall and had dark features; a messy head of brown hair and deep grey eyes, just like mine.

Turns out he meant no harm; just intrigued.

Turns out we became best friends.

By the time I reached the age of 11, I had to go off the the local High School, which was only about 15 minutes down the road; so I didn't mind that much. Gale was going too, so that was all that mattered. He was pretty much my only friend, apart from Delly Cartwright who I used to hang out with from time to time, but she left one day to go off to a boarding school and I never saw her again. Gale had his guy mates apart from me of course; Darius and Thom to name a few, but he seemed to spent most of his around me, _maybe he just didn't want me to be alone, I don't know._

We had many things in common though, we both loved the outdoors for a start. He explained to me once that he used to live in the Suffolk countryside in a small cottage, as his family owned a little farm. However, they went bankrupt, so decided to try and make it big in the city and ended up here. _Like me._

He said he used to get up early each morning to feed their chickens. Then, if he had enough time before he had to go off to school, he would sneak into the woods behind their fields and build traps, _which I thought was horrible...but cool,_ or collect wild berries and mushrooms for his Mother. It reminded me of my time I spent with Dad, practising archery. But I could never really speak about my past in front of him, so I just lied or let him do all the talking.

It took me a good year to finally pluck up the courage to truthfully answer that first question he asked me. Why I came here. They'd always be those conversations about parents in class. _I didn't say anything._

Or Gale would countlessly ask, "Why can't I come 'round your house for once?".

I felt terrible for doing it and my lies were even worse.

"Erm, um, because you just can't," I'd say. He, in his best mind knew to leave it there or I'd go mental. But I could see that on his face he was hurt, I wasn't telling him something and there was nothing he could do about it.

I told him when we were walking home from school just before the summer holidays. A cool summer's afternoon breeze was in the air and our busy London neighbourhood was oddly quiet, with only the sound the tube rushing over the tracks echoing in the the distance. It was as if London wanted to me to tell Gale as well. We used to walk together like that all the time, as Gale lived in the same estate as me in the block of flats along from ours. Surprisingly he lived on the same floor: 12, aswell. I still remember that conversation clear as day...

"Gale?" I mumbled, twiddling my fingers between my two hands, staring to the ground.

"Yeah, Catnip"

"I, er,"

"What?" He stopped this time, looking straight into my eyes, me slowly flushing fuchsia.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

"Ehem," I coughed, pulling us out of our mini trance. "Well there's something I need to tell you,"

Gale nodded, his face is draught confusion and somewhat hopefulness.

"Well, I...wait,"

"Wha-" but I was already pulling him along by his blazer sleeve, searching for a bench.

 _I realised this would take a lot of explaining._

By the time we'd found somewhere to sit, I was in full life story mode.

"...and so that's why I'm here Gale, I'm sorry I didn't tell you be-"

"Katniss, please. Don't be." He mumbled quietly, still in shock from what he'd just heard. "I just never realised so much could happen to you and Prim. I mean, I feel horrible now, all that nagging and stuff-"

"It's okay. Really."

We were some sort of jumbled mess, cutting off each other's sentences, trying our hardest to apologise to each other, for no apparent reason. Silence fell after that, the awkwardness of the whole situation brewing inside of me.

Should I have told him?

I just felt like crying or running away.

And-

And-

I was already crying anyway. Burying my face in palms.

"Oh god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

But, what happened next was completely unlike me. In every shape, form or way.

I pulled Gale close and hugged him, crying into his shoulder.

 _I was a nervous wreck._

We stayed like this for what felt like hours.

I had told him now, like there was some mutual respect for eachother.

I'd known his life story for a long time now, and he finally knew mine.

From that day onwards, we became inseparable. High School was always going to be hard, boys and grades and all the stuff in between, but atleast I had Gale there. He obviously started to come around the flat by now, and had become quite accustomed to Haymitch's ways. Haymitch even liked him. _This is a big deal, he's like me I guess, only lets a few people in._ We started to learn more and more about each other. He was the only person I could trust my secrets and troubles with, well apart form Prim, but she was too young to understand most of the time.

We'd often spend afternoons together at the local park, teaching each other our skills, instead of revising or homework. I'd teach him to use a bow and he'd teach me how to make slingshots. I'm pretty sure looking back that this was illegal, the holding of 'weapons and what-not', but back then we didn't care. We never did. As long as you were out of sight, nothing really mattered in our neighbourhood. Anyway the police were probably more concerned about the drug dealers than us.

Two years onwards and I was actually used to London. I finally started to call it home. Yes, there will always be a part of my heart still in West Virginia, no doubt about that. But I learned that you just have to move on in life, try new things, see new places. I learnt this as I went through my teenage years and also finally started accepting other people more. I began to make new friends within school as well; Annie and Johanna, and my transitioning to the new education system was over.

I grew up, and I was settling in just fine, I guess.

Haymitch could see I was brightening up too, "I told ya you'd love it here one day," he'd say.

And yeah, I do.

I do love it here.

Prim was happy.

I was happy and I had great friends.

I'd also met this great new art teacher towards the end of Yr 8, he was new to the school and our old art teacher was an absolute bore, so the whole class were buzzing to meet him, well at least I was. Cinna was his name. Just Cinna. Something I was already drawn to from when I very first met him, as I could tell that he wasn't like other teacher with 'Mr or Mrs' before their name. He always wore an all black suit, except his signature gold tie. Cinna pretty much made me start to like art more and more as his lessons went on. No longer was art just about painting with watercolours or drawing still-lifes, it was fun and exciting with different uses of media.

Cinna explained to me one lesson that he used to be a fashion designer, before he decided to become a teacher, this meant that his lessons were often interjected with textiles as well and so I quickly picked up the art of sewing. He'd also started a 'Textiles Club' after school, which obviously I attended as I had this new love. I remember staying for ages with him sketching and sewing different creations until he finally said he'd have to go home. I'd be able to stay 'till about six because I lived so close to the school, and as long as it wasn't dark Haymitch didn't mind what time I'd come home.

So inevitably, Cinna became my friend by the start of Yr 9.

And of course, textiles was on the top of my list for my GCSE options.

Late through the stressful year of Yr 11, I was after school one evening. Me, as usual, the only one there, sewing away at a small hat project I had put upon myself for Prim, even though I was suppose to being finishing my coursework, when Cinna came over clutching a large black-bound sketchbook in his hands.

"Katniss,"

"Yes," I mumbled removing the piece of string from my mouth and looking up from my intent work. "What's that?", this time pointing at the sketchbook.

"Come," he said guiding me to his desk in the corner of the classroom. So I followed. "Well, I know you've got coursework and exams to finish, it's just I thought you might want to have a look at some of the drawings I have in here," he said, slowly opening the book and facing it towards me.

"Okay," I said, confused. But then I saw what was inside. Now, I'm not the one to normally fall in love with pretty dresses or want my hair done like Prim, but these drawings, there were just so exquisite.

Cinna had drawn pages of beautiful dress designs, but also suits.

Army suits.

All suited around me.

Now, I know I've told him about my love for archery somewhere down the line but, I don't know, this was just so _unexpected_.

"Cinna," I stumble, "there, there just so beautiful."

Cinna smiled to himself.

"I've been looking at some of your work Katniss, and there's something really special about you. You've got raw talent. More raw talent than the other students-"

"Cinna you can't say that," I laugh blushing with pride.

"-well do you see them here each night?"

"Occasionally, when there's finals, but no really." I murmured to myself. Realising I probably should be going to my other GCSE revision classes apart from just textiles.

"You get my point, anyway back to this book. It's something I've been working on out of my spare time for your plans or _inspiration,_ "I look at him harder still confused. "A lady by the name of Portia, contacted me a few months back asking whether any of my students wanted to study textiles further at the prestigious Royal College of Arts, the one near the Royal Albert Hall, and if so to start a small fashion project on themselves. So I thought I'd give you a little head start, if you're interested that is," he said, nudging me a little towards the end.

I went to answer but nothing came out of my mouth.

I was just shocked.

Shocked that Cinna thought so highly of me.

That he thought I can do it.

Make it a fashion designer.

 _Like him._

"Cinna I," I stumble, "Can I have a think please? It's just this is a bit err, unexpected." I smile, walking back to my hat project on the other side of the classroom. Cinna chuckles to himself.

"I understand, talk to me when you do," he says, not bothered by my lack of enthusiasm.

As I walked home that evening, clutching the sketchbook in my hands and watching my cold breath dance around me, I thought… Well I thought many things. My mind was spinning. I'd also chosen Geography (I like the outside), French (please don't ask me why) and Food Technology (or _Cooking)_ for my GCSE options. Even if I was terrible cook (I had an interest in where food comes from at least) and well, I was pretty much hopeless at any of the other subjects I'd chosen apart from Textiles. Terrible at Science and Maths as well. But, surprisingly good at English, and so I'd always thought that I wanted to go into Media or Writing. I'd always had this keen idea for stories, I'd make up stories for Prim when first moved here. It helped her sleep. But I never thought that I'd want to carry on Textiles further, it was more of a hobby, like my archery. But Cinna believed in me. I'd never had someone believe in me that strongly before.

I couldn't ask Haymitch though, he cared about us going to school to start off with, but as the years went on and we got more and more settled he began to get into the booze again. As if he stopped caring. As if I could fend for myself, _and Prim for that matter_. He'd never appear to any parents meetings, _well he wasn't a parent,_ so he didn't really know about our grades. I came up to him mid-Yr 9 once so he could sign the options form I'd filled out and that was it, the only time he spoke to me about school.

Me and Prim would often come home to see he'd be passed out on the sofa again, missing another day of work, so as you probably guessed money got tighter and tighter. But I stood strong, nothing could be as tough as it was in America, so help my chin up and helped Prim and the whatever needed to be done for the housework. I'd even managed to get Haymitch to sign onto Child benefits, being as he was our _adopted father_ or Uncle as me and Prim liked to call him. We'd keep quiet out our problems though, he was better than any social care services coming around to take us away, _again._

By the age of 15, I finally managed to get counselling for him and his booze, which helped a little I guess, he wasn't so grumpy all the time. He'd being going to these sessions for about six months when I came home that evening with Cinna's sketchbook.

"Hi sweetheart- Whatta you got there?" He said rising from his armchair and coming over to me. _Another day of work missed._

"Ermm, just my textiles book," I mumbled heading towards the stairs to find Prim.

"She's not home, went to Posy's" he replied, me re-tracing my steps to face him again.

"When will she be home?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"It's six,"

"She's 12,"

"Fine, I just needed to speak to her,"

"Why don't you speak to me?" he asks. I stare back, "Katniss, as much as you may hate me I am your guardian. I know I'm not the best all the time. And I'm sorry for the booze; I'm trying Katniss, I really am. It's just things aren't going to get better between us if you just act like I don't exist."

I stare back again.

"Fine, it's just I don't know whether you can help me-" I finally say.

"What is it?"

I sit down at the dining table in the middle of the room. Haymitch takes a seat as well.

"Cinna, my textiles teacher, asked me whether I wanted to submit this project, a fashion project," he smirks. "It's from the Royal College of Art, Haymitch. It's important! This could change my future, I'd, I'd go to college there and-"

"What do you have to do?"

"Well, Cinna gave me this sketchbook. It's full of drawings, _inspiration_ , of me, for me. He says if I go for it, he'll help me make them and we'll submit them to the college, in which they decide whether I get through, like a scholarship- free of charge. I'm the only student he's entered."

"So, do you want to do it?"

"Haymitch, I-"

"You don't know, do you, so you were going to ask Prim."

I nod my head. Haymitch leans over and takes the sketchbook from in front of me, opening it carefully and looking through it's pages.

"Well that Cinna guys pretty good ain't he," he says nodding in appreciation.

"Yeah," I say, mulling over whether to tell Haymitch about my other plans. Plans for writing.

"Ermm, but you see Haymitch, you know I like English?"

"Yeah? Always the one for stories,"

"Well, I was thinking about applying for an English Language and Literature course for my A-levels, but now this has come along, I don't know."

"Can't you just do both? You have more than one option right?"

When did he get so good at this?

"I have four choices, but I can only do textiles at RCA,"

And that was when Prim walked through the door. "What's going on here?" She asked, planting herself next to me at the table.

"Me and Haymitch were talking about a College thing"

"Really, Haymitch do you even know what subjects Katniss takes?"

"Shh, little one. Katniss is confused on what to take, right?"

"Err, yeah,"

"Oh okay, what's that?" Prim says, the second one to point at Cinna's sketchbook.

And so I explain to her what it is, my college opportunity, my concerns on whether to take Textiles or Media or Writing and even though she's twelve, she's a bright little duck.

"Katniss, when I was around Posy's her Mum had these 'Elle' magazines, you know the fashion ones," I nod wondering where this was going. "Me and Posy were just messing about looking through them and deciding what we'd want to wear, but I've just realised Katniss, they contain fashion _and_ writing-"

"Prim you're so much brighter than me," I say, embracing her, it finally clicking in my brain about this opportunity that never ceased to cross my mind. She smiles to herself.

"So, I say go for the Textiles college, they might give you the chance to work for one of those magazines, combining both of your interests, you know, if there see your good English GCSE grade. Maybe I'll see an article on _archery fashion_ in 'Elle' one day!" She jokes.

Haymitch just stares.

"Katniss working for a fashion magazine," he mumbles to himself, even though I can hear him.

I stare back, giving him a dirty look. He soon changes his expression.

"That's settled then, I'll put on some pizzas" Haymitch repiles walking away to the kitchen.

That next day I told Cinna of my ideas, _well Prim's ideas._

Basically, I said yes.

Yes, I will go to RCA.

Cinna was over the moon. Well he didn't jump of the top of the roofs or anything, he's not the kind of person. He just smiled at me and said "I knew you'd go for it Katniss, I was betting on you,"

And so that's what happened for the next few months. Me and Cinna tirelessly working to create beautiful pieces of art. I was mainly doing the work, it was me that they were going to judge of course, but Cinna as an unforgetable help. Teaching me his craft, his eye, his skill for his work superbly. I had to send the work of mid June time, just before my end of year exams so time was tight. We had four months to complete five dresses and one 'army suit', (well like a bodysuit with protection and a sling for my arrows). The dresses were as follows; one full length red satin dress with a ruffled fishtail, one glittery black dress with red feather shoulders, one black mesh dress with flames licking around the bottom, and the 'grand finales' a full blown wedding dress, with tons of petticoats and crystals and contrasting, simple, dark navy boby-line dress with full length feather wings; to represent a Mockingjay.

Mockingjays were native birds back home in West Virginia. Many years ago, mockingbirds used to roam the forests around the whole of the state, but especially 'round where I lived. But then during the great coal mining boom during the early 1800's, new specially chosen jays, were born and breed to listen into explosions that might occur down in the mines in order to to seize help early, if there were an accident. They were incredibly helpful of course, but when with the decline of the industry in the late 1900's, locals began to build a grudge over the species of a bygone era, but somehow instead of being eradicated they managed to go wild in the woods and mated with the mockingbirds, creating a new species; the mockingjay. _Something that no one thought would happen._ These birds thenceforth gained the listening skills of the jays and the mocking skills of the mockingbirds.

When me and my father were in woods, we used to sing tunes and the mockingjays would listen and repeat it throughout the forest, echoing it through the trees. Me and Cinna decided to base the dress on the mockingjay because it reminded me of that part of my life with my father, but also that my life for far, happened like the mockingjays; I would become an orphan and move to England, s _omething that no one thought would happen._

All, the work payed off though, everything was finished in time and they all fit. I felt so beautiful that night, when I all of them one for the last time before me and Cinna packed them all up to go to RCA. I also had to attach a few essays on how I made it each garment and why I chose the design, so I could already show off my English skills even before they got my GCSE grades through.

I was aiming for an 'A' grade at least in my English and the passing grades of 'C's' in all my other subjects. Exams were always going to be stressful, I was tired most of the time from the extra work I'd done with the dresses and the extra housework. Prim would often help me out with the house though, she knew I was struggling. _Words can't explain how much I love her._ I often come home during the month leading to my exams to find Prim had made dinner and cleaned the house, just so I could get more revision in. I never understood how a 12 year-old learn't how to cook though, _I couldn't and I was taking the subject,_ but of course I never questioned, I was grateful for it.

Once the exams were all finished. All I had to do was wait.


	3. Summer

**AN: Okay so this a tiny little chapter, but didn't feel liked it fitted with the other one, so I made it separate. It's linking two plots together, which I feel isn't my strongest point, so I'm sorry if it's not amazing.**

 **Also I'm sorry for any Team Gale supporters out there ;3**

August came.

Along with the letter containing my GCSE results.

I'd been off school for about a month by this time, after my final exam and the goodbye's that followed. I vowed that I would keep in touch with Annie and Johanna, as they were both going of to college to study law and of course, I was going to keep in touch with Cinna, we were a team now waiting for the news of my acceptance.

Saying goodbye to Gale wasn't that hard though, I knew he lived so close, so it wasn't like I was never going to see him again. He never told me which college or apprenticeship he was going to go to or do though. I knew he said something about joining the Army sometime, but I didn't think that was what he was actually going to the do. We never kept secrets from each other so this was _different._ I didn't let it get to me though, I was concentrating on my own future then. _Concentrating on that letter._

"Katniss!" Prim cries from the bottom of the stairs, holding the mail in her hands.

"Coming," I reply, darting down the stairs. "Is it from school?"

"I think so," she says handing a letter to me. _The letter._

"C, C, C+, B, B, B-, A* and," I say, reading out my grades for all my subjects but English Literature and Language, Prim squealing when she found out I'd got an A* for textiles.

"And?" She says, "you haven't said English yet,"

My thumb moves from the text hiding the grades, "A and A*, _A and A*,_ " I say, the happiness suddenly flooding over me. "Prim, Prim I did it, I did it!"

"Katniss, I'm so happy for you!" she says squealing and hugging me as we dance around my living room.

"Oi, what's going on in here. An old man needs his sleep," Haymitch says sarcastically, poking his head through the door in which I come running over to hug him.

"I did, it Haymitch, my grades were good, I didn't fail any and I got A's for English!"

Haymitch smiled to himself. "I knew you could do it, love" he says, holding me close as Prim walks over to join in with the _family_ hug.

I must say I felt loved.

I text Gale shortly after to tell him about the good news,

' _Just got my results, all good xx'_

With him quickly replying, _'Come and meet me in the park, we need to talk'_

' _Okay?'_

I found him sitting in our bench we always sit at. Head in his hands.

"Gale?"

"Hiya," he says, sounding nervous?

"What's up?" I reply, shuffling up next to him.

"Good to hear about your results," he stammers, smiling softly, but not genuinely. "My results were pretty good aswell, good enough to get through. They sent me a letter yesterday,"

"What letter?" I panic, the colour from my face flushing away. My thoughts buzzing around my head. _Please don't be what I think it is._

He looks up slightly, making eye contact with me for a second.

"The army, Katniss. I'm joining the army,"

My heart sinks low into my chest. With the same sick feeling rising in my stomach, _the same feeling I had when I found my parents had died._ I take a deep breath. Squeezing my eyes shut to stop a tear from rolling down my face. _Stay strong Katniss. Gale is here. Right now. He's not going to die. He just going to training. He just going-_

"Katniss?"

"That's great Gale," I smile through gritted teeth, a lump forming in my throat from being on the verge of tears. "I just, I just didn't know that, that's what you wanted to do,"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier Katniss, it's just I didn't want it to add to the pressure of your exams,"

"Oh Gale," I say pulling him close. The warmth of his chest finding a somewhat comforting reality. He pulls away slightly and looks into my eyes.

"I'll be training for about two years, in Pirbright about 30 miles away from here. I'll be staying there Katniss,"

That's when the tears fall, reminding me of the last time I told Gale of my secrets here, _5 years ago._

"I'm sorry-"

"Where are you working,"

"Frontline," he whispers, closing in him himself as he feels the slight pang of my heart.

"Oh," I mumble going to move myself from our grasp, but Gale resists.

"I leave in a week," he says, his eyes a little glossy. He tightens the grip between us, and cups his hand gently under my chin, ours eyes meeting and my heart racing.

At that moment everything goes silent, as I feel his lips touch mine, _as he kisses me._

I pull away quickly looking confused, as I step away from Gale's hurt face.

I'd never had a kiss before.

Gale was my first kiss.

Part of me was screaming to kiss him back. Tell him I that I loved him all along, but I couldn't. There was this feeling of uncertainty, _not love._

 _Gale is my bestfriend,_ I thought, _not my lover._

He'd just confused this relationship we had even more and even though I hated the thought of it.

I had to get away.

"I had to do that. At least once," he finally says, flushing a bright red colour.

I wanted to hold him close and say _that's okay. We'll keep in touch._

But, again I couldn't.

All I managed to say was,

"Goodbye Gale,"

His distraught face, kept flashing in the back of my mind that night. I couldn't sleep. Everything seemed to be going so well. I'd got my A's and Gale had made it through. I knew I was happy for him and I accepted his choice of joining the army, however I just couldn't seem to bring myself to tell him that I didn't feel that way too. I cared for him of course, _but I couldn't love him,_ even if this made me feel like a bitch.

As he said, he left a week later. I texted him saying goodbye and that I hoped we'd keep in touch, yet I knew we wouldn't and it was killing me inside. For a good week after that I felt completely and utterly lost. Evil almost. I'd lost my best friend just like that. I wasn't exactly jumping to try and fix it either. _Still don't now._ I kept telling myself that I was stupid to put up such a grudge over one kiss, although it never ceased to change my mind. I have this tendency to be as stubborn as a donkey, had been ever since I was little, so I guess, this was a prime example of it.

The next week, all the emotions of Gale seemed soon to fizzle away, it was a long process, yet I'd put it on myself so was determined to get myself back out of it and concentrate on having an enjoyable summer, even if it was lonely and stressful.

I was still awaiting the confirmation from RCA.

 _Dear Katniss Everdeen,_

 _I'm happy to send this letter to confirm your place at the Royal College of Arts. You will be starting your scholarship for the fashion course, 9th September 2016 in which you will study for 2 years to achieve A-level passes and an extra 4 years in University style education in order to achieve a bachelor's degree in textiles, free of charge._

 _Your timetable, travel passes and list of equipment needed, will soon arrive in the post ready for September._

 _Please feel free to contact us for further information._

 _Yours Sincerely Portia, Head of Textiles at RCA_


	4. The Tube

**AN/ And here it is! The long awaited, everlark chapter 4.**

 **Firstly I'm sorry if it wasn't what you expected, I wanted to do something different. XD**

 **And...I'm so sorry it's been so long, it's just i've really struggled with this one. It's a kinda linking chapter so was hard to try and make it exciting with the 'Katniss meets Peeta' for the first time dilemma and how they'd act around from it.**

 **Sorry for my rant and here it :)**

The sound of the train rattling against tracks echoes around the nearly empty carriage.

I click open my phone to reveal the time, _19:30_.

Rush hour's over.

I turn my body around to face the window behind me, squinting to look beyond my reflection painted on it, trying to spot which station we're at. _Bank._ Still got plenty of time. Adjusting my body back 'round, I sit facing myself in the window opposite me again.

 _It's oddly silent in here tonight,_ I think, looking around at the few other occupants of the carriage I find myself in, their faces buried in their phone, blocked from the outside world via their headphones. _I am I the only one who still likes a chat, hey._

As I glance back down again, deciding I might as well look Instagram or something, I spot a young man around my age sitting in the next carriage along, staring at me for mere second, then quickly returning to look back at the empty seat in front of him, as soon as we make eye contact. I smirk as I stare back at him, slowly realising I'm doing the exact same thing he did to me once he sees my glare. He smirks, the creases of his mouth forming tiny dimples in the side of his cheeks, as I feel my own burning up. _Katniss stop blushing_ , I think desperately trying to cool my cheeks down by my covering them with my hands.

 _This is a stranger._

 _A hot stranger._

 _What?! No! Stop it!_

My thoughts are stumped by the tube's door rushing open, the hydraulics making a whooshing sound as they always do and the familiar automated voice booming through the speaker, _'Please mind the gap between the train and the platform'_. I turn to see the station name again, even though I know it's Liverpool St.

I sort of do it impulsively.

I do it to try and see the young man again.

I don't even know why, all I know is that my heart drops once I see him step off the train.

 _Come on Katniss, he doesn't even know you._

So I go back to my first plan; Instagram.

"Not up for human interaction then?," a voice calls jolting me to look up from my phone. The young man stares back, suddenly sitting across from me.

"Wait, what?" I reply startled. _Come on Katniss, act cool._

"Got bored in the other carriage, everyone's so caught up there phone's these days," he says, completely unaware of my heart thumping.

"Tell me about it," I laugh awkwardly, inwardly grinning to myself that he hadn't left the train yet, but mostly that he'd physically come to sit near me.

 _Does he like me?_ I suddenly think.

 _Oh now you're just getting ahead of yourself,_ I think again.

"On for much longer?" He says, bringing me back to my senses.

"Until Stratford,"

"Oh, I'm on 'till Mile End, going to see my Grandma. I normally get off at Tottenham, you see."

"Oh right, much longer journey than usual," I say, my mind rushing to try and think on what to say next.

"Yeah, not that bad though when I get to have an actual conversation with someone, especially when they're as pretty as you," He laughs, his blue eyes catching the light and glinting towards me. I blush furiously.

 _Is he flirting with me?_

 _Oh god._

 _Don't mess this up, don't mess this up-_

"Thanks," I quickly mumble, in the most unattractive way possible.

 _Shit._

"I'm Katniss, by the way, Katniss Everdeen,"

 _Better._

He smiles again, "Peeta, Peeta Mellark. So what do you do for a living?"

"I, um, I" _Come on Katniss this is not hard._ "I'm a writer for 'Elle' magazine, I write about fashion and stuff and then someone edits it and it goes on the magazine or the website-"

 _Katniss. Stop. You're rambling._

 _Don't end it with so yeah-_

"-So yeah," _Oh for god's sake._ "What about you?" I say, quickly.

"Oh me? My job's not as interesting as yours," he blushes. This time I smirk. "Fine then, I work in business for my father's bakery. Counting sales and that. You know, the boring stuff,"

I thought Mellark sounded familiar.

An image of one of the local bakeries around the Elle offices springs to mind.

 _Mellark Bakeries._

Oh god, this guy's probably real rich.

Living in Tottenham Court area, oh god.

"Oh right, I see, don't you like to bake or something?" I say concentrating on not letting my mind slip.

"I used, when I was little, but my Mum wanted me to 'do something more useful' than just be a baker's boy, like one of my older brothers." He sighs as the brakes screech, lettings us know we're at a station. Yet again I turn around to see which station we're at. _Mile End._ Yet again, my heart sinks.

"Oh, my stop," he says, getting up and walking towards the doors next to me.

"Bye," I mumble, trying to look away from his strong jawline and curls of loose blonde hair. But's it's no use, he just too goddamn good looking.

"Bye. Hope to see you again sometime," he replies, his navy pea coat brushing close to me as he steps off.

 _Again. That's a long shot,_ I think as I sigh and look back down to my phone, which much to my surprise has a small piece of ripped paper on top of it. _Strange, that wasn't there before._ Carefully, I pick it up and turn it around.

' _Call me, 07714 541667. Peeta x'_

As the tube finally makes it Stratford and I make my way home, ye _s I'm 22 and I still live with Haymitch,_ all that replays in mind is the sheer happiness I'm feeling.

A guy gave me his phone number.

A _hot_ guy gave me his phone number.

On the tube.

I've hardly ever had proper relationship with a guy before, let alone, like this.

Love in my life was the one that was pushed the furthest back in my mind and now here it is irking its way to the front foremost. _The only thing I can think about._

As I lie in bed that night, I don't sleep. I can't sleep. The excitement rising in my stomach seems to stay with me. That new feeling, that I've never felt before. _A crush. A crush that seems so close to being real._ I keep looking at the paper and then at my phone. Should I call him? Would that seem too pushy? I'll just text him. But he said to call him on the paper-

"Katniss, please turn the light out, it's eleven and I have college tomorrow," Prim suddenly murmurs, stirring from her cocoon like shape, tangled in her bed sheets.

She's 18 now, which seems crazy beyond belief. I still can't comprehend the fact I'm 22. _A proper adult as you were._ It was a whole year ago that I'd just graduated from my college course at RCA. Six months, since Elle called up saying that they're interested in me becoming one of their article writers for their magazine, and of course I said yes.

Prim just started her college course in medicine about a month ago, as she's wants to be a doctor when she grows up _, like our Mum._ She's incredibly good at it, much smarter than I'll will ever be; her seven A's compared to my measly three. She told me that she really wants to be a paramedic, working on the front line, saving lives. I told her that, she's much braver than me in that aspect, _I can't stand the sight of blood, yet alone nakedness for that matter._ She just laughed and called me 'pure', which I was pretty pissed at. I still enjoy sleeping in the same room with her though, even though I'm 'supposed' to be finding my own place now. But I like it here. Haymitch doesn't seem to mind, so I don't. _Saves me a bit of cash._

"Katniss, please," Prim calls again, this time a little stronger. "You've been daydreaming for the last five minutes,"

"Oh, erm sorry," I call, knowing that I have work tomorrow as well, so should probably get to sleep. But much to my surprise I get up, with the paper and my phone, turn out the light in the bedroom and sneak out into the living room.

I open the door slowly to find Haymitch slumped on the sofa, an empty bottle of gin in his grasp. Carefully, I remove of it and grab a blanket from the other chair, tucking him in, as to not wake him. He usually sleeps in here, sometimes so much that I don't even understand why he has his own bedroom.

I go to the kitchen instead, running my fingers along the wall in the pitch black darkness, in order to find the light switch. Flicking it on, the light soon fills the room, blinding me in its brightness. I rub my hands over my bare arms of my pj's, shivering slightly.

 _God it's cold in here,_ I think.

 _Why am I even in here?_

 _Oh, yeah too call Peeta._ I click open my phone, the screen illuminating my face slightly, as I make Peeta's contact. "Okay, Katniss just call him and ask him whether he wants to do anything, if he wants to be friends that's fine. It's cool, you'll be friends," I say, giving myself a little pep-talk before I press the 'call' button, as if this is the hardest thing I've ever done.

It rings-

And rings-

And rings-

Still with no answer-

It goes to answer phone. Peeta's voice soon filling my ears, 'Sorry I can't take your call at the moment, please leave a message and I'll ring you back as soon as possible-'

I hang up.

 _Who am I kidding? It's quarter past eleven._

I send him a quick text saying that this is my number and leave it at that, creeping back into the bedroom and slowly falling asleep.

I am awoken by Prim's alarm going off at six. _Why she has to get up so early I will never know._ Groaning, I turn back around and try and fall asleep again, only to realise, ten minutes later, that I need to get up too, immediately hopping out of bed and banging on the bathroom door, shouting for Prim to hurry up. _The morning routine._

By the time I'm finally ready and saying my goodbye's Haymitch, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Quickly I take it out to find a text from Peeta.

' _Hi, Katniss. Sorry I didn't pick up the phone last night, it was pretty late and I thought that you hadn't got the paper. But I'm glad you did. :) Had to get up early to help out at the bakery this morning so I'll be able to talk about 12ish'_

So I reply, _'Haha. Sorry, I called you late. Which bakery are you at? I could come and see you in my Lunch break if you're near by'_

With him quickly replying back, _'The one near Leicester square? Idk, I'm normally there, so I'm not sure on the others.'_

' _Cool, I know the one. Seen it before once or twice. Meet at 12:30?'_

' _Course'_

And I nearly burst with excitement.

You know, whenever you're waiting for something to happen and it always seems to take a hell of a lot longer than it usually does; that's what work feels like today, slowly edging on 'till my lunch break. Waiting to see Peeta. I usually enjoy work, I feel as if I'm liked here. _Which is quite an achievement._ I even have a new 'work buddy', Madge Undersee who's the next desk over from me. She normally does cover design work, so we work together to decide which article to feature on the the front. But today, I have no inspiration to write about new 'Winter trends' or whatever. I just sit there. Typing. Then re-typing, deciding for the umptinth time that I don't like what I've written. Finally I come up with at least something, however it's a bit shabby and I know I can do better. I'm just hoping that it gets the thumbs up and I can go off for my lunch break as planned.

As soon as 12:00 rolls onto my screen, I grab my coat, scarf and bag, and dash out of the door making my way out by running down the stairs, stopping half way realising that I'm acting pretty childish; and that I'd left my money on my desk.

I figured that I could buy something from the bakery, last minute, as I normally buy something from the 'Pret' across the road or whatever.

As I make my way back up to my desk, breathing a little heavy, Madge turns to me only just getting up from her desk to go out.

"You were in a rush," she calls, laughing a little as she puts one arm into her jacket.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I'm meeting someone, you see and I just came back to get my mone-"

"Who?" she smirks, suddenly very interested in the conversation.

"Ermm," I murmur, blushing bright red.

She laughs and brushes past me in a playful manner. "I have fun with your date, Katniss," she calls, as she walks out.

 _God dammit,_ I think as I grab my purse and walk a little slower down the stairs this time.

Madge never leaves these kind of conversations, always asking me whether I'd found the _one_ yet. Which I always blatantly reply with, _No._

Sometimes I think she's more into my love life than myself. 

I mean I've obviously been in few relationships over my time, _after Gale kissed me,_ but they were mostly two week hook-ups in college, with some 'hipster' arty guy, who I thought was mega cool back then. Never worked out though, I'm guessing they got bored of me of whatever. And yes, I did get drunk once or twice and end up 'one-night standing', but who doesn't in college? Anyway, as I grew into my twenties though, I started to want a proper relationship, you know something where it lasts longer than two weeks or whatever. But, as you've probably guessed I never found it, _till now?_

By the time I've found myself just outside of the 'Mellark Bakery' it's about, 12:25. _I'm on time, cool._ Smoothly, I try and peer my head through the shop window to try and spot Peeta, whilst trying to act natural in the crowd of tourists and locals swarming around the Leicester Square area. His eyes meets mine briefly, from the back of the shop, as I quickly remove my face from up close to the window. Slowly I turn back around, breathing to myself as I step through the door of the bakery, its bell making a tiny 'ring' sound as I step into the shop.

The first thing that hits me is the sheer smell of freshly baked bread. _Of course, it's a bakery._ But the smell is just too good to ignore. I take a large inhale. Normally at home we just buy bach loaves, because their cheaper down at the Co-op, but wow, I should really start eating fresh bread, my mouth is watering and I've only just smelt it.

I stand there for a moment a moment or two, looking wistfully at the array of breads behind the counter, when a young man, who looks oddly like Peeta, asks me what I want.

"Oh, ermm, just looking, thanks," I reply in my smallest voice, slowly stepping back from the counter when I realise there's a slight queue forming behind me.

Suddenly Peeta's voice calls from the kitchen, "Noah, give her a cheese bun, please. Free from me,"

Noah raises an eyebrow, as he reaches for the bun. I try to refuse, bringing out my purse. But, Noah insists I follow Peeta's rule.

"There you go," Noah, replies handing me over the bun in a little paper bag, turning his head 'round to call back to Peeta, "I'll stay on for an hour huh, so you can have your little _date,_ " he sniggers.

Me and Peeta both blush red.

 _Why does, everyone keep saying that, we've just met yesterday. We're just new 'friends'._

Although deep down I somehow hope that it doesn't end that way.

 _And I've never felt that way before._

Peeta walks through to the back of the counter, whilst I've shuffled away to let other customers buy their goods. He wipes his hands on his apron, that he's wearing, and then takes it off, hanging it behind Noah, playfully hitting him round the head with it as he does, before he walks over to me.

"Err, sorry about that. Just my brother being annoying," he says, eventually standing next me, his hand nervously brushing the back of his neck.

 _Oh, that makes sense now. I thought I remembered him saying that he had brothers._

"You wanna sit," he says, pointing to a nearby table.

"Okay-" I reply, "-you have any more brothers then?" I ask, trying to start conversation, after we've finally both sat down, hanging my scarf on the back of my seat.

"One other older brother, well they're both older than me. Noah's 23 and Hunter's 29. He doesn't work here though. He works as a bank manager, has his own family and stuff."

"Oh, cool. How old are you then?" I reply, trying my hardest for my voice not to crack, or my face to blush red under my nerves.

"22,"

"Same," I cry, maybe a little too over excitedly. He laughs.

"Cool, cool. What about you then Katniss, got any siblings?" he says back.

"Oh, just my little sister Prim. She's 18," I reply shrinking back into myself. Quickly I try move the conversation on from my family situation.

 _His seems perfect._

"I thought you said you didn't bake?" I say eventually.

"Ah, my day off, so I thought I'd help my Dad and Noah out. They work full time here- Hey! That reminds me, you're cheese bun will be going cold. I freshly baked them."

"For me?" I ask, suddenly reminding myself of the paper bag before me on the table.

 _He doesn't reply to that._ Just blushes slightly, causing me to blush back. Avoiding his gaze, I open the bag.

 _Mmmm. Smells good._

Gently I remove of bun from the wrapper and tear off a small chunk, indicating it to Peeta.

"Have some. It's yours of course,"

He declines though. Leaving me feeling pretty stupid to be honest; that it is 'till I tried it.

 _Goddamn it's good._ _Okay another thing this guy is good at: baking._

"Peeta, they're amazing," I say, forgetting that I'm speaking with my mouth full. Immediately I stop myself from talking, by covering my mouth with my hand. Peeta just bursts out laughing, forcing me to do too.

"Glad you like them," He chuckles, grinning widely at me.

Our eyes catch for just the slightest moment, before we both flutter our looks away. I get his sort of warm feeling all over my chest when that happens. _I hope he does too- Katniss, stop it. Stop getting ahead of yourself._

"You okay?" he asks, obviously aware of my flustered look.

I try my hardest to calm myself down.

"Yeah course," is all I manage, my voice cracking a little at the end.

After that, Peeta glances down to his phone observing the time. He sighs, as he looks up to me and says "It's half past one already, you wanna meet up after work tonight? I gotta get back to my shift, otherwise my Dad won't be happy," My heart flutters slightly, as he asks me to meet him, as I grin widely and nod my head.

 _Has it really been an hour already, fuck, I don't think I'd ever be finding myself believing in the cliche saying 'time flies when you're having fun'. But I am. I am having fun._

"That sounds great. Meet you at Marble arch?" I mumble a little too hastily than I would've wanted, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Cool, about five-ish?"

"Yeah, thanks of the cheese bun by the way, it's incredible,"

"Thanks," he mumbles, my comment forcing him to blush for what seems like the thousandth time so far between us.

We both manage to awkwardly stand up at the same time doing that little shuffle dance together, as we try and decide who walks first. Eventually I give up my politeness and push through, knocking my shoulder against Peeta's accidently, suddenly apologising profusely. Meaning we got back to where we started. A jumbled mess of trying to 'out-polite' each other.

That's one thing I've noticed about living in Britain for so long. British people are so goddamn polite. All the time, and Peeta seems to be the extremity of it. Saying sorry, for things he hasn't done, then saying sorry for saying sorry too often. The list goes on. But I kinda like it. It kinda makes me feel all fuzzy inside, that someone could be, just- just so nice. Yes, I haven't had many relationships, but from the ones I have had, they all seem like pretentious assholes compared to Peeta, which makes me giggle.

"What?" he says defensively, nudging arm slightly, as realise I giggled out loud.

 _Shit._

I hold back the larger laugh rising in my throat, and manage to squeak out a lame, "Nothing," finally giving way a bursting out into hysterics, Peeta slowly joining in too. Soon enough the whole bakery is looking as us, as we suddenly cut short and burn up madly.

Peeta rolls his eyes at me, as he's quickly darts over to the kitchen, mouthing _thanks_ in a kinda sarcastic, jokey way and then holds up five fingers. I nod at the message and mouth _bye,_ loving this little game we're playing. He mouths _bye_ back, and then he's gone. Leading me to shuffle embarrassingly out of the bakery. Finally to breathe out.

Prim finds me frantically running around our bedroom when she gets home, dumping her school bag lazily by her bed and flopping on to it.

"What's going on? You're not normally this hectic on a Thursday night." she laughs, obviously finding my flustered state hilarious. I sigh overdramatically, playfully throwing an unwanted top in her face She squirms, screaming "Katniss! You going on a date or something hey?"

I throw another.

"You are!" she squeals, making little 'ooo' noises.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a date, as such, more of a meet-up between friends," I sigh finally feeling as if I need to explain myself.

"I knew it!" Prim squeals again, not content with my 'friends' answer.

"Oh shut up and help me chose what to wear!" I cry, running over to her, holding up various tops in her face.

Eventually we decide on my usual casual stuff, consisting of washed-denim jeans, a grey slouchy jumper, biker boots and my brown leather jacket, that I've had for what seems like decades. Yes, it's a little worn and the leather slightly faded, but it's warm and I still want Prim to think that I'm going nowhere special. She plaits my hair in the usual way and I apply a little more mascara and lippie, before grabbing my phone and scarf and running out the door.

I find Peeta sitting on a lonesome bench by Marble Arch tube station, as we decided. I don't think he's seen me yet, so I take my time to saunter over to him. He's wearing the same navy peacoat that he was wearing yesterday, with the sun slightly glinting over his face, illuminating his blue eyes. _Damn._ I take a deep breath, just before he has time to notice me.

"Katniss, hey" he calls, as soon as I'm a few feet away.

I smile "Hi,"

We talk for a several minutes together, just sitting on the bench and enjoying each others company, before Peeta pulls me up abruptly whisking me down the path, and into the park. Out of confusion I playfully hit his arm and soon were a catastrophe. Laughing and running, as if we've been best friends for years. I don't know how it happens, but I like it. It's all in the moment. I don't feel embarrassed, or stupid, or flushed red. _I feel happy._

"Oi, oi slow down you," Peeta calls between laughs, trying to catch up with me running ahead as if I'm ten.

I quickly stop and let Peeta rush up beside me.

"You're a funny one, all I wanted was to walk," he calls, still laughing.

I don't say anything, to tangled up in the giggles.

"Sorry, I don't know what came over me, a 22 year old running like a ten year-" I eventually stumble after I've caught my breath. But Peeta interrupts.

"I've never met a girl like this before. I was lucky," he mumbles, to himself, but I hear and I blush. _God dammit._

But yet again he doesn't mind, and so we just walk along the path again as if nothing happened. As if we were old friends.

 _He doesn't judge me._

And then I get that thought all over again. _What if he likes me?_ I examine his speech, his constant looks towards me, soon to be flickered forward. My chest tightens. _This could be real._

By this time, it's about six and the sun is soon to be setting over the November skies. We've nearly treked the whole length of the park from, Marble Arch to Green Park station. "Wanna go see the river before I have to go?" I suddenly mumble.

Haymitch would always take us up to the Thames whenever it was a nice evening. Me and Prim would love it 'cos it meant that we'd go on the bus and sometimes get ice cream. The thought of it makes we want to spend this moment with Peeta even more. _I don't even care anymore about being pushy._

"Yeah, course. They might have already put up some of the Christmas lights." Peeta replies.

"We could catch the bus?" I say, and were soon running again, towards the nearest stop.

"Did you see the sign for the Winter Wonderland?" Peeta says happily, after we've made it to the bus, I shake my head.

"What is it?" I reply

"Sorry, it's kinda childish" he mumbles shyly.

"No, no go on,"

"It's like a fun fair they do each year for Christmas, with markets and stuff. I used to go there with my Dad and brothers when we were younger. I thought it be nice to go again, and get to know you more," His eye fluttering up to mine at that last bit.

 _I am completely freaking out right now._

"That's sounds fun, even for 22 year-olds" I reply, knocking into his shoulder, trying to play up my own joke.

 _Why the actual fuck did I do that?_

But Peeta yet again laughs and agrees with me. We settle for the 23rd of December, just before Christmas, even though it officially opens in a week's time, and the 23rd's way off. However, there's something quite magical about the month's wait I'll have to our Christmas, dare I say, _date._

As soon as I see the glistening of the river ahead of us, I slam down the 'Stop' button and hop off the back of the bus, leading Peeta to the waterfront. We lean against the railings as close as we can get, watching as the tiny, fairy light bulbs, shimmer and change on the water in front of us. Just staying silent. Just watching. It feels so magical.

Though I'm quickly interrupted with Peeta laughing to himself out of the blue.

I shoot him a quizzical look.

He quickly explains, "We're already already making plans to go out together and I don't even know much about you,"

"What you wanna know then?" I ask.

"Oh, I don't know," he says, then pausing to ask "What's your favourite colour?"

"Oh well, now you've stepped over the line" I joke back.

He laughs again, before saying,"Seriously, though what is it?"

"Green, what's yours?"

"Orange,"

"What like that lifeboat?" I laugh pointing at the nearest.

"No, not that orange, more, more like a sunset orange," he says softly, looking down to himself. I edge myself closer to him, breathing in the scent of freshly baked bread once more. He nudges me ever so slightly, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. I go in for the playful hit back, until that is, I look up.

A november sunset hanging loosely in the sky.

 _Peeta's favourite colour._

We stand for what feels like hours, just staring into the distance, squinting every now and then to observe the orange tinge on each others faces. Until, I realise I probably should go back. I tell Peeta and I awkwardly walk away leaving him still by the river. Only to come back a few seconds after saying, "Thank you for tonight, it was fun, we should meet up tomorrow again,"

"Yeah, of course. Text me. Bye Katniss," he smiles turning around to meet me again.

"Bye Peeta,"

And we nearly hug each other, before I stop myself and walk away once more.


	5. Christmas is Coming

**Soo, long time no see.**

 **I'M SORRY :'(**

 **Life sorta got in the way of this story, but I haven't forgotten about it.**

 **So, here is the next chapter...**

* * *

 _Oh, I wish it could be Christmas everyday!_

 _When the kids start singing and band begins to play!_

 _So let the bells,_

 _Ring out,_

 _For Christmas!_

"Oh my god, please keep it down!" I shout from the kitchen, covering my ears with my hands from Prim and Haymitch, who are having far too much fun putting up the Christmas tree. Well the 2 foot artificial one from Homebase, but oh well, we'll make do.

"What's up grinch?" I hear them shout back. I ignore them of course. Prim quickly walks in, pulling out a chair next to me. "Come on Katniss, why don't you want to help? It's Christmas!"

I pull her an irritated face, "You know I don't like Christmas Prim,"

She stares back at me solemnly, "You can't keep living like this each year Katniss. Yeah, Christmases are a bit shit with Haymitch, but it's still Christmas. A time to happy and all that,"

"Prim I'm not in the mood for one of your lectures-"

"Katniss please,"

"I said I'm not in the mood! He'll just get drunk again like every year, you'll get disappointed 'cos he hasn't bought us anything _again_. Just like every fucking year!" I shout, my voice growing in anger throughout. I expect Prim to reply to me as she always does when we have one these conversation _each year_ , about how she knows that Christmases aren't the same without Mom and Dad, but that I just have to get over it and be happy because she's still got her, and that Haymitch isn't really that bad, and that he isn't worth getting depressed over each December.

But she doesn't.

She just walks away.

So I do too.

Slamming the front door.

Pelting down the corridor of the flats and running down the streets I am sick of.

I turn off down a dimly lit alleyway, kicking some dead leaves that have crystallised on the pavement with my foot. Pelting them hard into the ground with my anger, which soon turns to floods of tears. I carry on until I reach the bench me and Gale used to sit at and cry for what seems like forever. The cold of the air makes my tears sting, as they roll down my face and my hands become sticky with mascara. But I don't care. I just feel numb. Like the whole point of me crying in the first place doesn't even matter.

I check the time on my phone once I've stopped shaking and the tears have subsided; _slightly._ 19:30. I've been sitting here for an hour. I know that they won't come for me. I'm 22; but I still want them too, like when I was a teenager and stayed out too long with Gale. I keep thinking to myself over and over, _Katniss grow up, just come home and help them decorate._ But I can't and I don't know why. Maybe I'd just rather stay here wallowing in my own thoughts than have a go at Haymitch.

 _But he hadn't even done anything wrong yet Katniss?_

 _Grow up._

 _You're being stupid._

 _It will be fine-_

A bright light sneers around the corner, illuminating my tear-stained face to the driver. I jump out of my skin and quickly shield my face as they drive on by. To which, I give them the middle finger and shout a mumble of unnecessary swears.

" _Fuck you! Turn your fucking lights down!"_

The car reverses and I immediately regret my decision, realising they had the window wound right down. I try to run away but the driver has already met my face.

 _Shit it must of been a police car._

 _How could of not noticed?_

 _Am I really that dazed-_

"Katniss?" he calls.

 _Oh shit._

"Oh my gosh. Peeta. I'm sorry," I mumble turning around and running away quickly, pretending that was never him in the first place and that he'd just drive away.

"Katniss, woah, wait!"

 _Of course he doesn't_.

He runs towards me.

I keep running.

"Katniss, Katniss, what's wrong?"

 _I keep running._

But he catches up with me.

So I spin around and collapse into his arms crying again.

"Woah woah, Katniss"

"I-I'm sorry" I snivel through breaths.

"No, no it's okay. It's okay," he answers, gently taking me to his car. We sit there in silence for a moment, while I try and compose myself again. Peeta says nothing, he doesn't even question my state anymore. He just looks at me with this true face of deep concern.

Eventually, I blurt out, "What the hell are you doing around here anyway?"

"Er, well, I was just driving through really," he says turning in on himself.

 _Was he going to see me?_

 _Stop it Katniss, he doesn't even know where you live._

 _Does he?_

"Through West Ham?" I answer instead, a little more sarcastically than I hoped.

"Yeah, well until you started yelling at me," he jokes.

"About that," I try and joke back, but my voice cracks and goes all wobbly.

I falter again.

"Katniss, I can take you home if you want. It's dark. Just tell me where your flat-"

"No, no Peeta, take me to yours. I don't wanna go back," I mumble knowing that he won't. But he's already hit the pedal, not questioning it twice.

Since our meet up at Green Park, we hadn't really seen each other at all, well apart from occasional visits to the bakery, but I was on my Christmas holidays now and there was no reason to go in the city. We chatted of course, over the phone sometimes, mostly texts. But

even those had started to die out. I don't really know what happened to be honest, but we hadn't spoken a word to each other for a good week now.

"I'm sorry I haven't texted you by the way," he randomly blurts out, bursting my thoughts.

"Oh no, it was my fault, I've been busy with work, you see,"

We both give each other a quick glance of awkwardness and, for a split second, I feel a sort of fuzzy feeling in my stomach rising.

I stare back out of the window.

But he speaks again, "It's not far now, it's just busy traffic and that,"

"Oh yeah, no, don't worry," I murmur, my words coming out all jumbled, that fuzzy feeling returning in my stomach.

 _I hope he feels that too._

"Stop it Katniss," I speak aloud.

 _Shit._

"Huh?" Peeta asks.

 _Shit._

"Oh nothing sorry,"

I stare back out of the window.

 _Silence._

 _I guess it's my turn to speak._

"Why, I was crying, earlier, I mean it's nothing. Don't take it the wrong way or anything. I just don't want someone over-worrying about something insignificant."

"I mean, I'm really not that bothered Katniss, it's none of my business," he replies quickly, eyes on the road.

"Okay, um, thanks" I reply, my heart thumping.

 _Am I mad at him for not caring?_

 _Or am I grateful that he's not intrigued?_

 _Then why was he so concerned earlier?_

"Oh and Katniss, the reason I was driving around West Ham, I'll be honest, was to see you. Surprise you I guess?"

"Oh?" I say confused.

 _Why are you confused?_

 _Isn't that a great thing. He likes you, so he went to see you._

 _Without a phone call?_

 _Without an address?_

"Shut up!" I shout all of a sudden. Peeta whips his head around to me, stopping by the side of the road.

"Katniss? Seriously Katniss, tell me what's wrong?" he asks, but I can't think straight.

And-

And, I'm too confused to bother talking about.

And-

And I don't know why I'm acting like this.

 _Over something so small._

 _So futile._

So I just grab Peeta close to me and kiss him.

Of course he pulls back; shocked. _But not for long._ He kisses me back, this time more eagerly, and before we know we're making out left, right and centre.

"Okay, okay, Katniss, nope I'm not doing this," he says, out of breath. My face falls. "Katniss I need to take you home. I won't do that to you, however much we may want it."

I stare at him blankly still dazed.

He starts the car again.

And I throw up.

The next moments I remember are hazy; I end up in Peeta's flat, on his sofa, in his blanket, falling into a deep sleep-

"Hey," Peeta calls, suddenly next to me, awkwardly sitting on the edge of the sofa. I rub my eyes slightly, my mascara coming off in big clumps in my hands. "You're okay, just a little hungover maybe, but fine,"

 _Hungover? What?_

 _I didn't have a drink._

 _Did I?_

"Look, I'll get you some tea, yeah?" Peeta asks getting up.

I nod my head slightly and curl into a tight ball grabbing the blanket closer towards my chest.

 _I'm so tired._

 _Mmm, this blanket smells good._

"Do you take sugar?" Peeta calls from the kitchen, jarring me from my haze.

"Erm, um, no thank you," I call back.

I decide to awkwardly sit and wait for my tea, instead of falling asleep again, feeling this somewhat urge to make it up to Peeta and my crazy actions. His flat is huge, all open spaced and modern. I'm glad he didn't see the shithole of a flat that I live in. _Still._

The place manages to feel homely though. The oak floorboards are covered with all sorts of fluffy rugs around me and the sofa, and there's small faux fireplace in front of me radiating it's artificial heat. The mantle piece around it is decked with cream candles, all held those traditional candle holders, ornate with decoration and frills. I feel as if I'm in a small country cottage, even though the rest of my surroundings are sleek and clean looking. Like something you'd see in a glossy Swedish interior catalogue.

 _How can he afford a place like this?_

 _His family?_

"There you go," Peeta says, placing my tea down with his on the coffee table. I shuffle up on the sofa and place the blanket on the floor allowing him to sit next to me. I say "thanks," awkwardly and we sit in stony silence for a while. I can feel him staring at me. At my haggard cry-ridden form of myself, still hazed and sitting on _his_ sofa at ten at night.

I turn to face him, "Erm, I'm sorry for ruining your car. I'll clean it up for you-"

He chuckles to himself, " Don't worry Katniss, I've already done that. It's no big deal, many of my my mates have been drunk in that car-"

"Wait, how long was I asleep for?" I interrupt his small talk.

"About two hours,"

"I'm so sorry,"

"Don't be. Seriously Katniss, I can handle drunks-"

 _Oh shit._

 _Were all my actions that insane that I looked like I was wasted?_

"No, no. You've got it all wrong. I haven't had anything to drink. I just got myself wound up over something stupid with my family,"

"Oh," he looks at me confused, the sudden realisation of the fact I'm completely sober kicking in. "Wait, you're completely sober?" he questions, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

"I hope so," I murmur. He laughs.

"Well that's good, I guess. Do you want some water or something, 'cos you were sick and all?" he ask getting up again.

"I'm fine, I think I've recovered" I reply, my mind's fogginess seeming to be clearing away. "It was just a sort of panic attack reaction thing. It's happened before." I lie, not wanting to say that I really just threw up because I was so worked up / horny to even digest properly.

"Are you okay now?" he asks again sitting back down, placing a hand on my shoulder without even realising. He quickly takes it away, leaving me feeling all fuzzy.

We glance each other quickly, as I say, "Yeah, thanks. You've been really kind in my craziness by the way. I promise I won't so crazy tomorrow, huh?" I joke, suddenly attaining that tomorrow is the day we go out to Winter Wonderland together.

"Oh yeah, I'm actually really excited about that, not going to lie," he replies the excitement rising in his voice.

 _Cute._

We spend the rest of the evening sipping our tea and talking about how much we love Christmas. None of it was awkward. He didn't double question my family situation. To be honest, we steered clear of our backgrounds or how we ended up here tonight completely. He didn't even speak twice about the kiss. And I liked that, I didn't want to talk about those things that I instantly regretted or that were awkward. Peeta got that and I loved it. _And I think I was starting to love him._


End file.
